


Under You

by ijustwantacue



Category: GOT7
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijustwantacue/pseuds/ijustwantacue
Summary: You never thought working under a strict boss can be this... satisfying.





	Under You

"You nervous?" Bambam asks as he leads me to the president's office.

"We're cousins. It's not on our vocabulary to be nervous," I assure him. He laughs. I know he's worried that I will fail the interview because their boss is a very hard to please man.

I made a research about Park Jinyoung last night. After all, if I want to get in a publishing house as prestigious as this, I should understand the visions of the company. Even though I'm just applying for internship, as a requirement for class, I have to take this seriously so they will hire me after I graduate.

Park Jinyoung is one of the most sought of bachelor in the present. He's the president of this large publishing house at a young age. He has the passion, wits, and my God, isn't he just good looking? The internet is filled with his pictures wearing suits, attending conventions and giving just a hint of a smile to the press. I want to know how his mind works. Does he like anything else other than books, papers and inks? Hell, does he even smile? He's so mysterious; I feel myself being drawn in.

"Well, here we are," Bambam stops in front of the door at the end of the hallway.

Usually, employees are only interviewed by the HR manager but Park Jinyoung wants to interview the interns himself. I think it's because he can't afford to just let anyone become temporary employees. They will be on a shorter contract so he won't be able to control them anymore once it expires, unlike if they are on a six year contract, the ones he make the permanent employees sign. They will have to pay for breaching it so they will keep being under Mr. Park for quite sometime until they find themselves extending it.

At least that what Bambam says. Park Jinyoung is a manipulator, a beast who will only smile as he devours you, and you'll find yourself in a really bad Stockholm Syndrome. But aside from overconfidence, our family is known for having the tendency to overreact too so... whatever.

Bambam holds both my shoulder and looks at me seriously. "Knock twice, wait for three seconds before entering, sit down right away, don't try to look at him for more than three seconds."

I raise a brow. "Why?"

"He'll turn you into a stone," he gives me one last pat before gesturing towards the door.

* * *

 Knock twice. Done.

Wait for three seconds before entering. Done.

I walk to his table, the only furniture in the middle of the room. I don't look around but everything else seems to be against the wall. I keep my eyes on his table full of folders and the chair meant for me.

Mr. Park's back is on me. He's sitting on his swivel chair, looking out the view. And what a great view it is. Being in the thirtieth floor has its perks. The phobia is worth it.

"You'll hurt your heels if I interview you while you're standing," he says in a very bored tone so I quickly sit down. Alright, I fail that step.

"Sorry," I mumble.

He turns around, finally letting me realise what a worthless person I am. In front of me is a prince. His hair is tousled, the kind that you want to see beside you in bed. He has thick eyebrows, perfectly framing his brooding eyes. His nose, not too small, not too wide, not too tall. And his lips. They look so soft and full. He's not smiling, of course, but he's not frowning either. His face is very relax, like he's just watching things unfold in front of him, yet I see his jaw line sharp enough to cut me.

"Don't."

One word and I drop my gaze. This must be why Bambam said I shouldn't stare. I will lose my mind. "I'm sorry, Mr. Park—"

"Don't," he says again so I look up to ask what more he wants. I already stopped staring. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back on his chair. His gaze is piercing me. "Don't say sorry over trivial things and don't call me Mr. Park. I'm not your neighbour."

Oh damn, I offended him. I drop my eyes to the floor again. "Yes, Sir."

"Sir?" there's amusement in his voice. Is he making fun of me? "I'm not your professor."

"What should I call you then?" I ask with a shrug. I don't have any idea what he wants.

"So you're going to follow whatever I want you to do? You're not going to fight for what you think is right?"

I look up to him again, trying to read in his eyes what is this game he's playing. Is this the start of the interview? Does he want to know what I'll do to get the internship?

"No, sweetheart. I know you want this internship, like everyone else." I feel myself shiver. I don't know if it's from the endearment or the fact that he can read my mind. Well, maybe I'm just really transparent or maybe that's his talent. "Just tell me something that will make me think that you deserve this more than they do."

"I can't."

For the first time, his face gives away the littlest emotion. He's surprised. He didn't expect my answer. "You can't?"

"I can't," I repeat in a much laid-back tone. "My competence can't be measured in words so I can't. I can't tell you empty promises of how I will work my ass off. Can't really say if I'm willing to give up my ass, right? You have to put me on field to see how long I can last."

And isn't this such a miraculous day? I made Park Jinyoung smirk. In a blink, I swear, I saw the side of his lips curve up involuntarily. He quickly goes back to his frozen expression though. He leans forward and I try not to breathe him in. He's flawless. His face doesn't have a dot or two.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks in a... smoky way. I don't know how to describe it.

"Yes," I say with no hesitations.

* * *

I should've said no.

Six months later, I find myself begging Bambam to help me with at least half of my work. When I told Park Jinyoung to see how long I can last, I didn't mean that he should try to kill me. But that's what he's doing right now. I go here three days a week and I take overtimes just to finish my work for the day. As soon as I give him the accomplished tasks, he has another pile of folder ready.

Don't get me wrong; I would've loved my job. I get to read a lot of stories and decide whether it's worth publishing. I find myself finishing a manuscript or two because I just can't let them go. I make reports about them and give it straight to Jinyoung. Oh, I learned that everyone calls him just by Jinyoung since he doesn't like being called by anything else. So that's why he scolded me during interview.

Yeah, he pays well. An intern like me gets as much as a regular publishing house's employee. But I've taken all my allowed leaves because of how hard the work is. I can't complain because everyone else is busy with theirs too. There's no exception. They're just more used to it that I am.

* * *

I knock twice, wait for three seconds, turn the knob, and go straight in. I would've sat straight to the chair in front of his table but Jinyoung is already waiting for me, leaning his back casually on his table. He has his hands on his pocket. I can see the largest pile of folders behind him. Of course, it's my last day. He'll do his best to make use of me.

"You're early," he says while putting his hand out of his pocket to look at his watch.

"It's my last day. I wanted to spend time with everyone as much as I can."

"You can still spend time with them if you decide to work here after you graduate anyway," he goes to his window and look out at the best view in the city.

"I'm still thinking about it. My work these past few months had been exhausting. Maybe I'll try to find somewhere... better."

"Better," he mocks. He looks back to me. "Where will that be, sweetheart? Where else will you be trained for the real world? You won't be just sorting folders when you graduate. You're gonna be doing what I'm already making you do. Would you prefer training for a battle then going to a war after?"

"I better get started with my work," I just say, avoiding to get caught in his words. I pick up the folders and head out.

Bambam wasn't overreacting when he said that Park Jinyoung is a manipulator, a beast who will only smile as he devours you, and you'll find yourself in a really bad Stockholm Syndrome. I don't even have to memorise those descriptions because I myself can see it.

These folders weigh like a ton but here I am, looking forward to get through all of them and impress the boss.

* * *

"Merciless, isn't he?"

I look back and see Bambam holding two glasses of juice. Or is that wine? But why would he be having wine at office hours?

"Here, drink," he hands me one and since I'm thirsty from trying to figure out how this how this cliché story can be published, I take the glass and empty its contents. Exquisite. "You're probably the most stressed intern ever."

"Not anymore after today," I hand him the glass back. God, ain't that helpful. The sweetness makes me calm down. "Where did the wine come from? Is it allowed?"

"Jinyoung sent it for you. A farewell gift of some sorts."

"Haha. Where, really?"

Bambam raises a brow. "It's true. He made me give it to you but I figured I'd check if there's poison first. Or some chemical that will make you want to stay in this major yet cruel publishing house."

I shake my head. "He doesn't have to. I like it here and it's an honour to be part of the team."

"Even if the boss is evil?"

I laugh. "Won't you get fired for saying that?"

"Nah. He needs the Bam for PR. The company will die without me," and here goes his cockiness.

I just roll my eyes. "Give me another glass. At least I'll die by a sweet drink, not a bitter life."

I maybe a little tipsy but I know what I'm doing. I even get to finish my work on time-ish. It's just nine in the evening. I'm used to staying here until ten so I did a pretty good job.

I go to Jinyoung's office. He leaves at six so I just dump my work on his desk like what I always do. Well, I won't be doing this for a while now since I have to graduate and apply again for a temporary place then. Maybe I should write him a note. Tell him that there's nothing better than here so I'll come back.

I put down the folders and look around his table for a pen and some paper. I find the one he uses when signing and a receipt of... yeah, the wine earlier. He even keeps receipts huh?

I go back to the visitor side of the table. I don't want to sit so I just bend over to write.

 

 

> _Mr. Park,_
> 
> _I'm coming_
> 
>  

"What are you doing?"

"Fuck," I accidentally draw a long line across the page because I get startled! I put the pen down and face him. "What the hell! You should've knocked."

"Why do I have to knock on my office?"

His office? But this is Jinyoung's office. Oh... it's Jinyoung. He didn't turn the lights on so I can only see him through the moonlight shining outside his glass window. Doesn't he just look marvellous under it? He's not wearing his suit, just a buttoned up with sleeves folded to his shoulders. What is he even doing here? I thought he went home?

"No. I was waiting for the intern to finish her work so I can take her home. I heard she's been taking overtime so it's the least I can do for a hardworking employee."

I snort. Is he serious? Does he turn into some kindhearted prince at nightfall? That's oppose many fairytales.

"What were you doing, bent over my desk like that?" he starts to walk towards me.

"Oh," I remember. "I was going to leave a note but since you're here. I'll just tell you."

"Tell me what?" he stops right in front of me. I don't remember him being this close to me. There's always a table in between us.

"That you're right, there's nowhere better than this so I might apply here again after I graduate."

"Why do you have to tell me that?"

Geez, can't he be nice for once? "Well, you seem to want me to apply here again when we talked earlier. Did I read your intentions wrong?"

"No. You're right. I did want you to apply again."

Working in a publishing house and reading stories as work and on my free time made me keen on the tenses used when speaking. "Did? So you don't want me to apply anymore?"

"Yes. Now that I think about it, it's actually bad idea."

I made a humourless laugh. "What?" I pull his collar. Maybe it's the wine or maybe I'm just really done. "I did everything you wanted. I risked going home late just so I can finish whatever pile of shit you want me to go through and now you're saying that you won't hire me again?"

"Yes," he tries to make me let go of his shirt but I hold even tighter, making him lean to me so I can I don't have to look up to him like I'm a servant to an evil prince.

"Are you having fun playing with me? Are you having fun playing with your employees? Yes, you're the boss but that doesn't mean you have the right to make us suffer then throw us to the ground when you find us useless."

"You're drunk and that's not what I'm saying."

"Well, what are you saying then? That I'm just not really on your standards? Why did you make me change my mind then? Why say those things earlier?"

He successfully pulls away and though I didn't hear about him hitting anyone, what I did just now can result to just that. And he's rich so he can cover it up.

"Office relationships are not allowed here."

I look up when he says that. His eyes aren't blank; they're filled with dark emotions that I can't understand. He never looked this way before. I've never seen anyone look so dangerous and alluring at the same time.

What does he mean by that?

"I can't hire you again because I'll be tempted to take you here at my table everytime you walk in to give me those folders," he walks to me and I step back, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. I feel the table behind me but he keeps on going forward, until he finally entraps me. His hands are on my either side as he leans to me too close, yet too far.

I almost yelp when I hear things drop with one swish of his hand. The folders are now scattered on the floor. Before I can even look at him again, I feel his hands on my sides and with no hesitation, he lifts to sit on his table. We're in the perfect position. I can finally look him in the eye and not be afraid of anything since he's the one trapped in between me.

"I've been imagining you sitting here since you walked in with that overconfident head of yours. 'You have to put me on field to see how long I can last.' I remember that all the time. I keep on wondering, how long can you really last, sweetheart?" I feel a shiver run down my spine as he says that while his lips are ghosting by my neck. "And when I walked in seeing you bent over like that? Were you purposely making it hard for me?"

"No," I breathe out.

"See? That's why I can't hire you again. We won't have any work done," he gives me a quick peck before moving away.

Wait, why is he moving away? Is he playing with me again?

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart?" he says as he caresses my chin lightly. I release my knotted forehead. Alright, he's just making sure. What a strict boss.

"If you don't want me working under you, then maybe I'll just let you work over me."

* * *

"Maybe I should make the call me Sir," he says as he picks up our clothes. I'm too tired to even move but we can't stay here at the office.

"I thought you said Sir is for professors?" I ask, trying to sit up. He sees my struggle so he offers to help me up. He pulls me and I roll my eyes when our body collides again.

"But if they call me just by my name, I will always remember how you moan it," and he starts kissing me again.

"Wait," I push him away, remembering something. He gives me a warning look, the one he gives when I'm trying to defy orders. "Why did you send wine earlier?"

"Wine?"

"Yeah. Bambam gave me some, said it was from you."

He laughs. Wait, he laughs? This is the first time I see him laugh! He doesn't look like the boss I fear anymore because of the lines that appear beneath his almost closed eyes. He looks very youthful and damn it, I'm falling even more.

"It wasn't from me, sweetheart. Maybe your cousin just wanted you to have the courage to confess your feelings for me so he did that. I don't allow alcohol in the company."

Oh, fuck. He's screwed. But it's not like it's my fault! "Are you going to fire him?"

"That's what I should do, right?" his head bends down to kiss my collarbones. I feel myself shiver. "But I'm too busy right now because of him. I didn't know I'll ever say this but maybe he deserves a raise actually."

He starts going up but before he reaches my lips, I pull away again. "Then why is the receipt on your table?"

"Huh?"

I push him a little so I can go to the scattered files. I find the little paper and hand it to him. "Here."

He takes it and tries to melt it, I guess. He's practically glaring at it. "He wants me to reimburse it. I'm cancelling his promotion."

"Such a coldhearted boss," I say and now, I'm the one who starts kissing him.

He doesn't respond, still looking at the paper. The back of the receipt. "Is he the one who wrote this too?"

Oh right. He shows me my unfinished letter earlier. "Nope, that would be me."

"Good," he throws it away behind him. "You're right. Mr. Park will make you come."


End file.
